THE  CENTURY 

JULY,  1916 


TABLE 


O    F 


CONTENTS 


The  articles  and  pictures  are  copyrighted,  and  must  not  be  reprinted  without  special  permission 

Cover  Design WILL  BRADLEY 

The  Princess  Marie-Jose  of  Belgium ALYN  WILLIAMS 

From  a  miniature.     Printed  in  color Frontispiece 

A  Lost  City  of  the  Andes HARRY  A.  FRANCK 

By  the  author  of  "A  Vagabond  Journey  around  the  World,"  etc 321 

Photographs  by  the  author. 

They  Both  Needed  It.     A  story FANNY  KEMBLE  JOHNSON 

By  the  author  of  "The  Prodigy,"  etc.     Illustrations  by  Harry  Townsend.  335 

The  Plains  of  Panda GEORGE  AGNEW  CHAMBERLAIN 

By  the  author  of  "Home,"  "John  Bogardus,"  etc 347 

Photographs  by  the  author. 

New  Dreams  for  Old.    verse CALE  YOUNG  RICE 

360 

Veiled  Island.     A  story MARJORY  MORTEN 

Illustrations  by  Frank  Snapp 361 

Gallipoli A.  JOHN  GALLISHAW 

Photographs 371 

In  the  Home  Stretch,    verse ROBERT  FROST 

By  the  author  of  "North  of  Boston" 383 

Illustrations  by  John  Wolcott  Adams. 

Burney's  Laugh.     A  story STACY  AUMONIER 

By  the  author  of  "The  Friends,"  etc 392 

Toys.      Verse MARGARET  WIDDEMER 

400 

Sir  Douglas  Haig A.  G.  GARDINER 

Photographs 401 

Neighbors EUGENE  WOOD 

By  the  author  of  "In  Our  Town,"  etc 410 

The  French  Peasants  of  St.  Pierre 

and  Miquelon EDITH  s.  WATSON 

416 

Feminism  and  Psychology GEORGE  MALCOLM  STRATTON 

By  the  author  of  "Psychology  of  the  Religious  Life,"  etc 420 


(Continued  on  second  page  folio-Ming) 


In  the  Home  Stretch 

By    ROBERT    FROST 
Illustrations  by  John  Wolcott  Adams 

SHE  stood  against  the  kitchen  sink,  and  looked 
Over  the  sink  out  through  a  dusty  window 
At  weeds  the  water  from  the  sink  made  tall. 
She  wore  her  cape ;  her  hat  was  in  her  hand. 
Behind  her  was  confusion  in  the  room, 
Of  chairs  turned  upside  down  to  sit  like  people 
In  other  chairs,  and  something,  come  to  look, 
For  every  room  a  house  has — parlor,  bedroom, 
And  dining-room— thrown  pell-mell  in  the  kitchen. 
And  now  and  then  a  smudged,  infernal  face 
Looked  in  a  door  behind  her  and  addressed 
Her  back.    She  always  answered  without  turning. 


384  <s  THE  CENTURY  MAGAZINE 

"Where  will  I  put  this  walnut  bureau,  lady?" 

"Put  it  on  top  of  something  that  's  on  top 
Of  something  else,"  she  laughed.    "Oh,  put  it  where 
You  can  to-night,  and  go.    It  's  almost  dark; 
You  must  be  getting  started  back  to  town." 
Another  blackened  face  thrust  in  and  looked 
And  smiled,  and  when  she  did  not  turn,  spoke  gently, 

"What  are  you  seeing  out  the  window,  lady?" 

"Never  was  I  beladied  so  before. 
Would  evidence  of  having  been  called  lady 
More  than  so  many  times  make  me  a  lady 
In  common  law,  I  wonder." 

"But  I  ask, 
What  are  you  seeing  out  the  window,  lady?" 

"What  I  '11  be  seeing  more  of  in  the  years 
To  come  as  here  I  stand  and  go  the  round 
Of  many  plates  with  towels  many  times." 

"And  what  is  that?    You  only  put  me  off." 

"Rank  weeds  that  love  the  water  from  the  dish-pan 
More  than  some  women  like  the  dish-pan,  Joe; 
A  little  stretch  of  mowing-field  for  you ; 
Not  much  of  that  until  I  come  to. woods 
That  end  all.    And  it  's  scarce  enough  to  call 
A  view." 

"And  yet  you  think  you  like  it,  dear?" 

"That  's  what  you  're  so  concerned  to  know !    You  hope 
I  like  it.    Bang  goes  something  big  away 
Off  there  up-stairs.    The  very  tread  of  men 
As  great  as  those  is  shattering  to  the  frame 
Of  such  a  little  house.    Once  left  alone, 
You  and  I,  dear,  will  go  with  softer  steps 
Up  and  down  stairs  and  through  the  rooms,  and  none 
But  sudden  winds  that  snatch  them  from  our  hands 
Will  ever  slam  the  doors." 

"I  think  you  see 
More  than  you  like  to  own  to  out  that  window." 

"No ;  for  beside  the  things  I  tell  you  of, 
I  only  see  the  years.    They  come  and  go 
In  alternation  with  the  weeds,  the  field, 
The  wood." 

"What  kind  of  years?" 

"Why,  latter  years- 
Different  from  early  years." 

"I  see  them,  too. 


UM  «.««*••*' 

'"Where  will  I  put  this  walnut  bureau,  lady?'" 


386 


THE  CENTURY  MAGAZINE 

You  did  n't  count  them?" 

"No,  the  further  off 
So  ran  together  that  I  did  n't  try  to. 
It  can  scarce  be  that  they  would  be  in  number 
We  'd  care  to  know,  for  we  are  not  young  now. 
And  bang  goes  something  else  away  off  there. 
It  sounds  as  if  it  were  the  men  gone  down, 
And  every  crash  meant  one  less  to  return 
To  lighted  city  streets  we,  too,  have  known, 
But  now  are  giving  up  for  country  darkness." 


"Come  from  that  window  where  you  see  too  much  for  me, 
And  take  a  livelier  view  of  things  from  here. 
They  're  going.    Watch  this  husky  swarming  up 
Over  the  wheel  into  the  sky-high  seat, 
Lighting  his  pipe  now,  squinting  down  his  nose 
At  the  flame  burning  downward  as  he  sucks  it." 


"See  how  it  makes  his  nose-side  bright,  a  proof 
How  dark  it  's  getting.     Can  you  tell  what  time 
It  is  by  that?    Or  by  the  moon ?    The  new  moon ! 
What  shoulder  did  I  see  her  over?    Neither. 
A  wire  she  is  of  silver,  as  new  as  we 
To  everything.    Her  light  won't  last  us  long. 


IN  THE  HOME  STRETCH  387 

It  's  something,  though,  to  know  we  're  going  to  have  hen- 
Night  after  night  and  stronger  every  night 
To  see  us  through  our  first  two  weeks.'    But,  Joe, 
The  stove !    Before  they  go !    Knock  on  the  window ; 
Ask  them  to  help  you  get  it  on  its  feet. 
We  stand  here  dreaming.     Hurry!    Call  them  back!" 


"They  're  not  gone  yet." 

"We  Ve  got  to  have  the  stove, 
Whatever  else  we  want  for.    And  a  light. 
Have  we  a  piece  of  candle  if  the  lamp 
And  oil  are  buried  out  of  reach?" 

Again 

The  house  was  full  of  trampling,  and  the  dark, 
Door-filling  men  burst  in  and  seized  the  stove. 
A  cannon-mouth-like  hole  was  in  the  wall, 
To  which  they  set  it  true  by  eye ;  and  then 
Came  up  the  jointed  stovepipe  in  their  hands, 
So  much  too  light  and  airy  for  their  strength 
It  almost  seemed  to  come  ballooning  up, 
Slipping  from  clumsy  clutches  toward  the  ceiling. 

"A  fit !"  said  one  and  banged  a  stovepipe  shoulder. 

"It  's  good  luck  when  you  move  in  to  begin 
With  good  luck  with  your  stovepipe.     Never  mind, 
It  's  not  so  bad  in  the  country,  settled  down, 
When  people  're  getting  on  in  life.    You  '11  like  it." 

Joe  said:  "You  big  boys  ought  to  find  a  farm, 
And  make  good  farmers,  and  leave  other  fellows 
The  city  work  to  do.    There  's  not  enough 
For  everybody  as  it  is  in  there." 

''God!"  one  said  wildly,  and,  when  no  one  spoke: 

"Say  that  to  Jimmy  here.     He  needs  a  farm." 
But  Jimmy  only  made  his  jaw  recede 
Fool-like,  and  rolled  his  eyes  as  if  to  say 
He  saw  himself  a  farmer.    Then  there  was  a  French  boy 
Who  said  with  seriousness  that  made  them  laugh, 

"Ma  friend,  you  ain't  know  what  it  is  you  're  ask." 
He  doffed  his  cap,  and  held  it  with  both  hands 
Across  his  chest  to  make  as  't  were  a  speech, 

"We  're  giving  you  our  chances  on  de  farm." 
And  then  they  all  turned  to  with  deafening  boots 
And  put  each  other  bodily  out  of  the  house. 

"Good-by  to  them !    We  puzzle  them.    They  think— 
I  don't  know  what  they  think  we  see  in  what 
They  leave  us  to.    That  pasture  slope  that  seems 
The  back  some  farm  presents  us ;  and  your  \voods 
To  northward  from  your  window  at  the  sink, 


388  THE  CENTURY  MAGAZINE 

Waiting  to  steal  a  step  on  us  whenever 
We  drop  our  eyes  or  turn  to  other  things, 
As  in  the  game  'Ten-step'  the  children  play." 


'Good  boys  they  seemed,  and  let  them  love  the  city. 
All  they  could  say  was  'God !'  when  you  proposed 
Their  coming  out  and  making  useful  farmers." 


"Did  they  make  something  lonesome  go  through  you? 
It  would  take  more  than  them  to  sicken  you — 
Us  of  our  bargain.    But  they  left  us  so 
As  to  our  fate,  like  fools  past  reasoning  with. 
They  almost  shook  me." 

"It  's  all  so  much 

What  we  have  always  wanted,  I  confess 
Its  seeming  bad  for  a  moment  makes  it  seem 
Even  worse  still,  and  so  on  down,  down,  down. 
It  's  nothing;  it  's  their  leaving  us  at  dusk. 
I  never  bore  it  well  when  people  went. 
The  first  night  after  guests  have  gone,  the  house 
Seems  haunted  or  exposed.     I  always  take 
A  personal  interest  in  the  locking  up 
At  bedtime;  but  the  strangeness  soon  wears  off." 


He  fetched  a  dingy  lantern  from  behind 

A  door.    "There  's  that  we  did  n't  lose !    And  these !" 

Some  matches  he  unpocketed.     "For  food  — 

The  meals  we  've  had  no  one  can  take  from  us. 

I  wish  that  everything  on  earth  were  just 

As  certain  as  the  meals  we  Ve  had.    I  wish 

The  meals  we  have  n't  had  were,  anyway. 

What  have  you  you  know  where  to  lay  your  hands  on  ?" 


"The  bread  we  bought  in  passing  at  the  store. 
There  's  butter  somewhere,  too." 

"Let  's  rend  the  bread. 
I  '11  light  the  fire  for  company  for  you ; 
You  '11  not  have  any  other  company 
Till  Ed  begins  to  get  out  on  a  Sunday 
To  look  us  over  and  give  us  his  idea 
Of  what  wants  pruning,  shingling,  breaking  up. 
He  '11  know  what  he  would  do  if  he  were  we, 
And  all  at  once.     He  '11  plan  for  us  and  plan 
To  help  us,  but  he  '11  take  it  out  in  planning. 
Well,  you  can  set  the  table  with  the  loaf. 
Let  's  see  you  find  your  loaf.    I  '11  light  the  fire. 
I  like  chairs  occupying  other  chairs 
Not  offering  a  lady— 

"There  again,  Joe! 


You  're  tired." 

"I  'm  drunk-nonsensical  tired  out; 
Don't  mind  a  word  I  say.     It  's  a  day's  work 
To  empty  one  house  of  all  household  goods 
And  fill  another  with  'em  fifteen  miles  away, 
Although  you  do  no  more  than  dump  them  down. 

"Dumped  down  in  paradise  we  are  and  happy." 

"It  's  all  so  much  what  I  have  always  wanted, 
I  can't  believe  it  's  what  you  wanted,  toe." 

"Should  n't  you  like  to  know?" 

"I  'd  like  to  know 

If  it  is  what  you  wanted,  then  how  much 
You  wanted  it  for  me." 

"A  troubled  conscience! 
You  don't  want  me  to  tell  If  /  don't  know." 


"I  don't  want  to  find  out  what  can't  be  known. 
But  who  first  said  the  word  to  come?" 


",        y 
,    c«^  /,'• "       joku  Wol  Co  tt  a  d<taui 

^          &    «•» 


"  '  It  would  take  me  forever  to  recite 

All  that  's  not  new  in  where  we  find  ourselves' 


IN  THE  HOME  STRETCH  391 

"My  dear, 

It  's  who  first  thought  the  thought.    You  're  searching,  Joe, 
For  things  that  don't  exist;  I  mean  beginnings. 
Ends  and  beginnings — there  are  no  such  things. 
There  are  only  middles." 

"What  is  this?" 

"This  life? 

Our  sitting  here  by  lantern-light  together 
Amid  the  wreckage  of  a  former  home? 
You  won't  deny  the  lantern  is  n't  new. 
The  stove  is  not,  and  .you  are  not  to  me, 
Nor  I  to  you." 

"Perhaps  you  never  were?" 

"It  wxmld  take  me  forever  to  recite 
All  that  's  not  new  in  where  we  find  ourselves. 
New  is  a  word  for  fools  in  towns  who  think 
Style  upoa  style  in  dress,  and  thought  at  last 
Must  get  somewhere.     I  Ve  heard  you  say  as  much. 
No,  this  is  no  beginning." 

"Then  an  end?" 

"End  is  a  gloomy  word." 

"Is  it  too  late 

To  drag  you  out  for  just  a  good-night  call 
On  the  old  peach-trees  on  the  knoll  to  grope 
By  starlight  in  the  grass  for  a  last  peach 
The  neighbors  may  not  have  taken  as  their  right 
When  the  house  was  n't  lived  in?    I  Ve  been  looking: 
I  doubt  if  they  have  left  us  many  grapes. 
Before  we  set  ourselves  to  right  the  house, 
The  first  thing  in  the  morning,  out  we  go 
And  go  the  round  of  apple,  cherry,  peach, 
Pine,  alder,  pasture,  mowing,  well,  and  brook. 
All  of  a  farm  it  is." 

"I  know  this  much: 

I  'in  going  to  put  you  in  your  bed,  if  first 
I  have  to  make  you  build  it.    Come,  the  light." 

When  there  was  no  more  lantern  in  the  kitchen, 
Out  got  the  fire  through  crannies  in  the  stove 
And  danced  in  yellow  wrigglers  on  the  ceiling, 
As  much  at  home  as  if  they  'd  always  danced  there. 


54 


CENTURY  ADVERTISEMENTS 


A  COOL,  well  shaded  porch  or  veranda  is  the 
first  and  most  necessary  of  all  home  com- 
forts in  Summer.  Such  places  are  the  natural 
centers  of  home  and  social  life.  Beautiful  porch 
furnishings,  wonderful  outlooks,  interesting  peo- 
ple, win  no  willing  presence  to  the  veranda  that 
is  not  well  shaded  and  cool. 


i 


•  SOMETHING  FOR  EVERY  BUILDING" 
Steel  Rolling  Doors  for  Fire 
Protection,  Rolling  Wood 
Partitions  forChurches  and 
Schools.  Heavy  Wood  Roll- 
ing Doors  for  Round  Hous- 
es. Venetian  Blinds  and 
Awnings  for  the  house  and 
porch.  Sleeping  Porch 
Blinds.  Hygienic  Ward- 
robes for  Schools.  Sliding 


Swing  Doors  for  Garages. 
Wood  Block  Flooring  for 


Venetian  Awnings  and  Blinds 

solve  the  problem.  They  secure  at  will  any  de- 
gree of  light,  or  shade,  or  air  desired;  shut  out 
the  fiercest  gale,  or  admit  the  faintest  breeze. 
The  daytime  porch  is  easily  made  into  a  comfort- 
able, well  protected  sleeping  room  at  night.  Forty 
years  of  use  with  constant  experiments  under 
varying  conditions  have  perfected  them. 

See  that  your  porches  and  verandas,  as  well  as  the  win- 
dows of  all  rooms  in  which  real  Summer  comfort  is  ex- 
pected, have  "Wilson  Venetians.  Now  is  the  time  to  in- 
stall them. 

Write  for  illustrated  and  descriptive  book,  addressing 
our  nearest  office. 

J.  G.  WILSON  CORPORATION 

Atlanta,  Ga.,  CandlerBldg. ;  Boston,  Mass.,  17  Pearl  St.; 
Buffalo,  N.  Y.,  802  Fidelity  Bldg. ;  Chicago,  111.,  McCor- 
raick  Bldg.;  Denver,  Colo.,  1526  Blake  St.;  Los  Angeles, 
Cal.,  750  Keeler  St.;  Montreal,  Que.,  Read  Bldg.;  New 
Orleans,  La., 909  Union  St.  (wooden  products),  or  Carroll- 
ton  Ave.  and  Edinburgh  St.  (steel  products) ;  Minneapolis, 
Minn.,  Lumber  Exchange  Bldg.;  New  York,  N.  Y.,  8  West 
40th  St.;  Norfolk,  Va.,  The  J.  G.  Wilson  Corp.;  Okla- 
homa City,  Okla.,  614  Majestic  Bldg. ;  Pittsburgh,  Pa., 
Bessemer  Bldg.;  Philadelphia,  Pa.,  Heed  Bldg.;  Rich- 
mond, Va.,  Real  Estate  Exchange  Bldg. ;  Seattle,  Wash., 
Foot  of  Madison  St. ;  Spokane,  Wash.,  Wall  St.  and  N.  P. 
R'y ;  San  Francisco,  Cal.,  525  Market  St. 


